


Deep Sea Baby

by Thelonelycoast



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Agoraphobia, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bullying, Creature Fic, M/M, Merman Louis, Merman Zayn, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 12:27:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12653529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thelonelycoast/pseuds/Thelonelycoast
Summary: Harry never leaves his house.  Louis never leaves his tank.  Can they find a way to be free together?





	Deep Sea Baby

**Author's Note:**

> So I guess I should start off with an apology for not posting for a long time. I got a bit discouraged with some discouraging comments left on some of my other fics and coupled with depression, it didn't make for good writing juju.
> 
> This is something I've been working on for a while and I'll try to update as regularly as I can. There should be about ten chapters total and I already have rough drafts of the first three.
> 
> You can find a playlist for this fic [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/122909014/playlist/2U5NIZOt6j1ExxkObSuURg)
> 
> I love to read your comments and I'll do my best to reply to them! Feel free to message me on tumblr @ [peachbottomprince](http://peachbottomprince.tumblr.com)

Loosely based on “[Orenchi no Furo Jijō”](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orenchi_no_Furo_Jij%C5%8D), in which high school student, Tatsumi, keeps a merman in his bathtub.

Playlist can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/122909014/playlist/2U5NIZOt6j1ExxkObSuURg) !

 

_Oh, I beg you, can I follow? Oh, I ask you, why not always? Be the ocean, where I unravel. Be my only, be the water where I'm wading. You're my river running high. Run deep, run wild. I, I follow, I follow you. Deep sea baby... -_ I Follow Rivers, Lykke Li

*** 

Harry pulled the blankets up to his daughter’s chin and tucked the edges of her _Little Mermaid_ duvet around her.  It had been a long, exhausting day and he was looking forward to a cup of peppermint tea and unwinding with a sappy romantic comedy.  It was tough being a single dad sometimes.

“What should we read tonight?” he asked, rifling through the library books piled on Isla’s bedside table.  Harry had painted tiny seahorses on the dresser drawers in the week before Isla was born and the table’s glass top was covered in seashells and bits of sea-glass they’d collected together from the beach.

“Tell me the story of how you and daddy met,” Isla yawned into her pyjama sleeve.

“Not that old one,” he groaned, but his cheeks dimpled in a soft smile.

Telling stories was one of the ways they all stayed connected as a family.  It was the way they remembered.  It was the way they knew who they were and who they might yet become.  But sometimes, stories stirred up things, like silt dragged up from the sea bottom during a storm.  Things that left Harry feeling unsettled and lonely, glancing out the window at the dark waves, searching for a glimmer of gold.

“Please,” five-year-old Isla pleaded, widening her blue eyes and sticking out her bottom lip.  She _definitely_ didn’t get that from him.

“All right all right…” Harry sighed, settling back into the rocking chair beside her bed.  He let his eyes drift to the window, as if looking through it into his past.

The full moon reflected on the waves in wavering silver lines.  Isla’s curtain billowed, bringing it with it the smell of the sea and a wash of memories.

Harry began.

“Once upon a time, there was a boy and a fish…”

***

Just ten steps.  Just to the mailbox and back.   _No sweat_.  Except...Harry _was_ sweating.  The short walk seemed to stretch out to infinity.  His vision narrowed and expanded.  Sweat gathered under his arms and prickled along his hairline.  He was twenty-three years old, for Christ’s sake.  He’d gone to secondary school with people who had mortgages and wives and even kids.  And he couldn’t even manage his front walk.

Harry grasped the door handle - the metal wobbling in his sweaty palm - trying to psych himself up with a pep talk.  “You can do this.  No big deal.”  But it _was_ a big deal – for him.

“If you do this, you don’t have to do anything for the rest of the day.  You can sit on the couch in your underwear and order pizza and play Mario Kart ‘til your hands cramp.” _Except, you could do that anyway,_ his brain traitorously supplied.   _Without doing the hard thing._

“You can’t live like this forever,” Harry scolded himself.  “It’s not living at all.  Don’t you want to be normal?”

Harry glanced through the peephole again.  Most people had already left for work or school.  The street sweeper and garbage men had come and gone.  All the neighborhood dogs had been walked.  Even the birds were ramping down from their morning chorale.  It was as deserted as it was going to get.

Steeling himself, Harry turned the handle and pushed the door open.  The sun was blinding. It shot through the watery clouds in wide, glittering bands like tire-tracks cutting through snow.  Harry raised a hand to shield his eyes.   

This part was easy – he opened the door for takeaway all the time.  The door threshold was fine; he _liked_ it even.  It was comfortable, familiar.  His wellies and trainers were lined up neatly in their tray, his raincoat and scarves hung on their respective hooks, his keys dangled from a little plaque that read: _Home Sweet Home._  Everything was in its place – everything, including Harry. 

“Right,” Harry blurted aloud. “I’ll just – get on with it.”  

He unlocked his knees and forced his legs down each stair like a man relearning to walk, even as spots swam in his vision and a wave of paralyzing dizziness swept over him.  Step by excruciating step, he edged down the front path, stopping every few meters to quell the rising panic, lodged in his windpipe like a half-swallowed sweet.  

 _He was exposed - out in the open - where anything could happen_ .  A _flaming piece of airplane fuselage could hurtle down from the sky and crush him or a drunk driver could careen up his front lawn and flatten him or a rabid dog could bite him or a pack of neighborhood kids could pelt him with stones_.  

 _Or nothing could happen at all_ , he reminded himself.

Harry’s thoughts halted when a dark shadow passed over him.  He glanced up as the first few raindrops fell and struck his face.  One ran down his cheek like a tear before he brushed it away with his sleeve.  The sky rumbled, dark clouds racing across it.  Strange blue lightning crackled through the clouds.  The weather could turn on a dime so near to the sea and it often did.  Harry fought the urge to bolt for the front door.

He could practically see the headline now:

_Local Agoraphobe Killed by Lightening Strike on Rare Trip Outside._

“Right, I’ll just – quickly – ”  Harry did a sideways shuffle, trying to outpace the rain.   _Should he go back for his raincoat?  No, he’d never come back out.  Another day lost._

He was determined this time.  It was embarrassing enough that all the local delivery men knew his order by heart – having to ask them to fetch the mail for an extra pound was just… _pathetic_.

Harry let out a deep, shuddering breath as he reached his mailbox.   _He’d done it!_  All he had to do now was gather all the overflowing mail and make a mad dash for the front door.

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted as Harry was pulling the mail free of the overstuffed box.  Harry jumped, startled.  

_A thousand scenarios ran through his head in the moment it took to turn around - the person was a serial killer, a home invader, a solicitor about to serve him legal documents, a telemarketer whose spiel - out of some compulsory British politeness -  Harry wouldn’t be able to escape._

_Or_...just a harmless old man.  Harry chided himself for overreacting.

The old man was stooped forward – a good two feet shorter than Harry.  His body was lost in shapeless, colorless clothes and his face was framed by long, white whiskers like a catfish.  His leathery face was weathered by the sun and sea.  He used a fishing pole for balance and held a tackle box in the other hand.

“Lonely boy,” the man said, pointing a trembling finger at Harry.  His accent was a strange thing - layered like an onion - so it felt like many languages overlapping at once.

“Um, I’m not – I’m Harry.  I’m just getting my mail.”

“Here,” the man held out a small, clouded mason jar.  “Pet for you.  No good to eat.  Good for lonely boy.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t need a pet, thank you.”  The rain was coming down harder now and Harry’s mail was getting soaked.  He tried to shield it the best he could against his chest.  His wet curls were falling into his eyes and he couldn’t see anything in the jar but cloudy silt and algae.  The old man seemed unphased by the inclement weather - oddly serene as he watched Harry through eyes that seemed to contain galaxies in their depths.  Something about his presence forced Harry to listen, kept his feet cemented to the ground.

“Pet is yours.  Belongs to you,” the man said, shoving the jar at Harry’s chest.  

Harry took the jar so it wouldn’t drop.  “Th-thank you,” he stammered.  The old man winked.  Harry turned and sprinted back to his safety of the front door.

He tossed the mail onto the side table in the foyer and slammed the door behind him, setting the three locks with trembling hands.  He hurried to the living room and pushed aside the curtain.  The street was empty in all directions.  The man was gone.  And even more curiously – it had stopped raining as suddenly as it had started.

Harry’s heart was hammering – and to his great consternation – he realized he was still holding the jar.   _What if it was a homemade bomb?   Or anthrax?_   _Oh God.  He wouldn’t die of a lightning strike after all, but of a panic attack after walking three meters to the mailbox._

He looked around him at his therapist had suggested when he felt a panic attack coming on.  It was a way of grounding himself when he felt like he was spinning out of control.   _Right.  Five things you can see in your immediate surroundings._ His eyes drifted around the room, naming things in his mind.

_Couch.  Lamp.  Carpet.  Afghan.  Jar._

_Wait!  There!_  At the bottom of the tank – a tiny flicker of gold tail.

***

“Niall?”  Harry stood with his hip leaning against the center island in the kitchen, with his phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, watching the jar for tiny flashes of gold tail.  The poor fish must be asphyxiating in all that polluted water.  Harry could empathize.  His brief jaunt outside had left him similarly gasping for air.  He knew now why he never left – it was just as awful as his traitorous brain had made it out to be.

“All right, mate?”

They exchanged brief pleasantries - they talked weekly and Harry barely left the house - so there wasn’t much to catch up on.

“Niall, I’m so sorry, but I – I need your help.  I’ve got this pet goldfish and I need stuff for it and –” Harry realized his voice was getting higher and more anxious by the second.  He hated asking things of Niall, but there was no one else.  His parents had died when he was a baby and he’d been raised by his Nana, who had passed on and left the house to him five years ago.  He could mostly get by on grocery home delivery and Amazon.com, but every so often he needed something right away - cough medicine or toilet paper or liquid drain cleaner for a clogged toilet.  It was embarrassing and humbling to lean on their friendship this way and he was always vigilant about showing his gratitude. Mostly in the form of baked goods.

“Calm down.  It’s fine.  Just text me a list.”

“It’s kind of an emergency.  If you could do it now?  I’m so sorry.  I’ll bake you that cake you like.”

Niall laughed.  “A fish-mergency?  This I gotta hear.  Extra rainbow sprinkles?”

“Always.  You’re the best.  Really.  I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’m getting in my car right now.  See ya in twenty.”

Harry googled “goldfish care items” and started typing out a list.

  *      10 gallon tank
  *      Filter
  *      Water Conditioner
  *      Decorations – a live plant if they have? And some little statues.  And maybe a coconut house so the fish has somewhere to hide?
  *      Goldfish food
  *      Thermometer
  *      Gravel – turquoise because it’ll make the fish’s tail color pop.
  *      A tank hood with a light
  *      Small fish net
  *      Gravel vacuum



Harry hit send on his phone and put the oven on preheat.  He set a large, glass, mixing bowl on the counter and began gathering the ingredients for Niall’s cake.  Usually baking relaxed him, but today, Harry kept anxiously glancing at the jar on the counter, looking for a glimmer of gold tail.   _What if the fish died before Niall got here?  What if it was already dead?_ That old man had entrusted Harry with its care and Harry was terrified he would make a mess of it, like he made a mess of everything.  He couldn’t even drive to the pet store like a normal person; what made him think he could be a responsible fish owner?

The cake was in the oven when the doorbell finally rang and Harry raced to the front door, skidding to a stop in the foyer.  He unlocked the three locks and drew back the chain, only realizing as he opened the door that he hadn’t looked through the peephole to check it was Niall.

The top of Niall’s brunette hair was just visible over the lid of the large glass tank he carried.

“You can set it in the kitchen,” Harry ushered Niall in and shut the door behind him.  He reset the locks as Niall carried everything in and set it down.  When Harry came into the kitchen, Niall was holding the jar up to the light, trying to get a glimpse at the goldfish.

“So how exactly did you manage to get a pet without leaving the house?  I mean a stray cat or dog showing up on the doorstep I could see, but a stray fish?  Did he swim here?  Or swim upstream in your toilet bowl?” Niall joked.

“Some old fisherman.  I don’t know….I was out getting my mail and he just came up and gave it to me.”

“You got your mail?  That’s great, mate.  You having a good day then?”

“Yeah.”  Harry supposed he was.  He had managed to leave his house for the first time in months.  He’d been so distracted by the fish - and so anxious about its well-being - he hadn’t been able to properly celebrate his victory.

“Proud of you,” Niall grinned, clapping Harry on the back.  “Shall we get to it?”

“Oh yeah.”  Harry opened the packet of bright turquoise gravel and spread it out over the bottom of the tank while Niall unpacked the decorations.  Together, they set the tank up in his bedroom, on top of his dresser.  Harry was pleased with the things Niall had picked out and the tank brought a special something to his room, which was otherwise pretty austerely decorated.

They had just finished setting up the tank when the oven dinged.  Harry looked back and forth between the fish’s jar and the kitchen, torn on what to do.

“Go.  Get the cake.  I’ll get the fish in his tank,” Niall assured him.

Harry jogged to the kitchen and pulled the cake out of the oven to cool, burning his finger on the oven rack in his haste to take it out.  He ran his hand under cool water, watching a red welt bloom on his skin.  For some reason, he was less upset about the burn and more disappointed that he wouldn’t be the first to see his fish.  But Niall was right – better to get the fish into clean water right away.  Then, Harry could start thinking of names and stop calling it “the fish”.

“Uh, Harry? Mate?” Niall called from the bedroom.  “You’ve gotta see this.”

***

“Is it dead?” Harry cried, rushing in.  He’d completely forgotten about his burned hand.  What if he’d made Niall go to all that trouble, only to have a brand new tank with no fish in it?

“No, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a goldfish.”

Harry’s eyes frantically scanned the tank.  “Where is it?”

“It’s gone into the coconut hut.  I just saw it quickly, but I swore...” Niall shook his head.  “Must be low blood sugar or something.  I skipped breakfast.”

Harry didn’t even think before reaching into the tank to lift the coconut.  He was rewarded by a sharp pain in his finger - the not-burned one.   “Ow,” he withdrew his hand quickly.  “It bit me!”

A bright bead of blood rushed to Harry’s fingertip.  

“I’ll get a plaster,” Niall volunteered, disappearing into the bathroom.  Harry took a deep breath.   There was no way he was risking putting his hand in the tank again.  Using the green net, he nudged the coconut onto its side.

The fish – no, _fish-thing_ – cowered in the corner, shaking.  Niall had been right about one thing – while it had the bright tail of a goldfish, the upper torso was a human boy’s.  And it was terrified of him.  Which made sense since the fish-boy was the size of two of Harry’s fingers.  He and Niall must have looked like monsters.  The fish-boy’s skin and tail suddenly flashed blue, so he was camouflaged with the tank’s gravel.  “Amazing,” Harry marveled.  He crouched down to eye level.  The fish boy’s skin had a opalescent sheen, so he glittered in shifts of light.  Delicate frilled fins - that matched his tail - sprouted from his forearms.  As he got accustomed to Harry looking at him and not making any sudden movements, he slowly returning to his normal colour.

“Sorry, love.  Didn’t mean to frighten you,” Harry said softly.  “Cute little thing, aren’t ya?”  The fish boy growled and bared his teeth.  Harry chuckled.  “So tough for such a little guy.”

Niall had returned with the plaster and Harry put it on his finger.  They both stared into the tank at the little creature.  “That doesn’t look like any goldfish I’ve ever seen. Who did you say gave it to you again?”

“A fisherman.”  Harry wondered if he had imagined the whole thing.  If he’d tripped and hit his head and this was all a dying man’s hallucination.  But no, the fish boy was real.  And Niall could see him too.

***

The fish boy didn’t look so hot.  He wasn’t swimming much and Harry could see his tiny whiskered ribcage straining against his thin skin.  He looked half starved.  Harry tapped in a few fish food flakes, but the creature didn’t take the bait, turning up its nose at the food.

“Maybe it eats something else?” Niall suggested.  “What about cheese?  Everyone likes cheese.”

Harry broke off a few chunks of Wensleydale from the block in the cheese keeper and dropped them into the tank.  The fish boy darted quickly out of his coconut shell – which Harry had righted – and grabbed the cheese, carrying it back into his shell.

“Hungry, aren’t ya, little fella?” Niall crooned, crouching down to try to get a better look at him.

“I wish he’d come out,” Harry said sadly.  “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Harry, mate, this thing could be worth a lot of money.  You might have discovered an entirely new species!”

“I don’t want to sell him,” Harry said, horrified.  “He’s my pet!”

“Still, you might want to have a fish expert have a look at him or something.”

Harry bit his lip.  “I’ll think about it.”

They left the fish boy alone to eat and went back to the kitchen so Harry could finish icing Niall’s cake.   

“What are you going to do?” Niall asked, sitting on a stool at the center island across from Harry.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I can return him to the store, can I?”

“But you don’t even know how to take care of him! What he eats, what temperature he prefers, whether he lives in fresh or saltwater.  Maybe it would be better if you gave him to an expert.”

“You don’t think I can take care of him?”

“You don’t even know what _he_ is.  What if there’s an emergency and you need to take him to the vet?”

Harry frowned.  “Well, I’ll just figure it out if it comes to that.  My therapist said I should stop imagining worst case scenarios and take it day by day.”  Harry didn’t mention that he’d already gone through about seventy-five worst case scenarios just that morning.

“Sorry.  I just want to make sure you can handle the responsibility.  Things haven’t exactly been easy for you lately.”

Harry scrubbed a hand over his face, fighting back tears.  “Hey, I’m sorry.”  Niall came round the counter to give Harry a hug.  “Guess I’m just jealous you have such a cool pet.”

Harry sniffled.  “Really?”

“Will you text me updates on him?”

“ ‘Course.  And you can come over anytime you want to see him.”

“Well, I better get going.  Can you box up the cake?  My dad’ll kill me if I drag out my lunch hour any longer.”  Niall worked at his father’s chip shop – and while Bobby Horan was pretty cool about Niall running errands for Harry – he had his limits.

“Yeah. Sorry to take up your whole lunch.”

“Are you kidding?  This is the coolest thing that’s happened all week!”

***

Harry ordered a hamburger and chips for dinner.  He picked up a book he’d been reading, but every so often his eyes would stray to the tank.  The fish boy hadn’t emerged from his coconut since Harry had dropped the cheese in.  Harry was beginning to worry (well, really _continuing_ to worry since worry seemed to be his constant state these days).

He paid the delivery man when his order arrived and decided to eat in his room in case the fish boy decided to make another appearance.  Harry had just cracked open the Styrofoam container when a tiny face peeked out.

It watched Harry take a bit of his hamburger and then, cautiously, came a little more out of the shell.

The fish boy took his hands and brought them to his mouth, miming eating.  “Are you hungry?” Harry asked.

It repeated the gesture again – silently bringing it’s tiny hands up to its mouth, as if to bite into an imaginary hamburger.  (Or Harry’s finger.  It still stung.)

“You want some?” Harry asked, breaking off a small bit of hamburger and bun.  The fish boy nodded eagerly.  “You won’t bite me, will you?”  The fish boy shook his head and mimed eating again.  Harry lifted the tank lid and dropped in some shredded bun and meat.  The fish boy wolfed it down, barely seeming to chew and gestured for more food.  “Slow down, little guy, you’ll make yourself sick.”  Harry dropped in a bit of chip and another piece of hamburger.  Again, the creature seemed to swallow it down in one bite.

Harry set aside his food for a moment and rummaged through his desk for his magnifying glass.  He held it up to the tank to get a closer look at the creature.  “Amazing!” he exclaimed.

The miniature, fine-boned face was like a fairy’s - with big, heavily lashed blue eyes, a snub nose and a cotton-ball sized tuft of hair floating around its face.   A delicate pearl was inset between his collarbones.  A master dollmaker would struggle to come close to this level of detail.  There were some signs of neglect – scales missing from his tail, various scars and his torso was all skin and bones – but Harry reckoned with a little feeding and care, he’d be right as rain.

He dropped in another bit of hamburger and held up his magnifying glass to watch the creature eat.  The fish boy glared at Harry and darted back into its coconut.  “Oh, sorry,” Harry apologized.  “Do you not like me to watch you eat?”

The fish boy emerged long enough to shake his head.

“I promise I won’t.  You’re just so beautiful,” Harry traced a finger over the glass.  “I’ve never seen anything like you.”

The fish-boy cautiously edged out again and they finished Harry’s burger and chips in companionable silence.  Harry was reminded of his Nana - how the house used to feel when she was still alive - like there was always someone there, just on the other side of the wall.  Sometimes just having her there had been enough to snap him out of a deep depression or a spiral of anxiety.  Since she’d been gone, he’d felt increasingly like he was drowning.  Sometimes, he chatted with telemarketers because he missed hearing someone else’s voice. 

Harry cleaned up after he’d eaten and went into the bathroom to change into his pajamas.  He wasn’t quite comfortable getting naked in front of his pet yet.  Harry reckoned the small creature was more perceptive than he gave it credit for.

“Do you like television?” he asked, angling his laptop screen so the fish-boy could see.  The fish-boy – sleepy and sated – didn’t respond.  It floated a few centimeters above the gravel, lazily flicking its tail to keep it afloat.

Harry brought up Netflix.  “We could watch the Little Mermaid.  You might like that since you look a bit like her?  Only smaller.”

The creature bared its teeth.  “Okay, I get it,” Harry laughed.  “You have a size complex.  I won’t mention it again.”

Harry pressed play.  The fish boy laid down on the roof of his coconut, with his head resting in his steepled hands, watching from his tank with rapt attention.  Whenever a fish came on screen, he mimed the eating motion, so Harry reckoned he might like seafood.  When the evil sea-witch showed up, he cowered, with his arms shielding his face.  When Ariel twirled her hair with a fork, he giggled, covering his mouth with a tiny, fine-fingered hand.  There was a bit of webbing between his fingers - as thin and delicate as morning dew on a spiderweb.

Harry tried to pay attention to the movie, but it was more exciting to watch his new pet’s reactions to what was happening on screen.  When the movie ended, the fish boy’s eyes were fluttering shut.

“Bed time,” Harry said, closing his laptop.  “Tomorrow, we’ll work on finding you a name.”

The creature smiled and then fell asleep, curled up on the coconut like a kitten.  Harry watched it sleep for a while before he succumbed to sleep himself.

***

Harry woke up to water being flicked in his face.  He opened his eyes and saw that the fish boy had managed to push open the top of his tank and was splashing him.  “Hey!” Harry protested.

The fish-boy giggled, covering his mouth and did it again.  “Think that’s funny, do ya?”

The fish-boy nodded, impishly crinkling his nose.  Harry got up to pee and wash his face and brush his teeth.  When he came back, the fish-boy had his arms folded on the top of the tank and its tail flicking in the water below.  When it saw him, it mimed eating.

“You’ve got quite an appetite for a little guy,” Harry exclaimed, only to be splashed in the eye.

“Sorry,” he laughed.  “I forgot.  You don’t like being called little.”

Harry toasted a few frozen waffles and came back, picking off some little pieces to feed his pet.  “I forgot to introduce myself.  My name’s Harry.  Do you have a name?”

This fish-boy didn’t say anything, but gestured for more waffle.  Harry handed him some – marveling at the tiny fingers as they took the waffle.

“Well, we’ll have to think of a name so I can stop calling you fish-boy.  How do you feel about Tom?”

The fish-boy stuck his tongue out.  “Okay, not Tom then,” Harry laughed.

“William?”

Head-shake.  More gesturing for waffle.

“Oliver?”

Nose-crinkle.

“Liam?  Nick?  Jack?  Charlie?  Alfie?”

The fish boy blew a raspberry with his tongue.

***

***2 days later***

“Max?  Edward?”

More head-shaking. “Come on, you’ve got to pick something,” Harry complained.

The fish-boy shrugged.  Harry sighed.  “Fine.  Let’s take a break and watch some X-factor.”

Harry angled his laptop screen so the fish-boy could see.   “That’s Simon Cowell.  He’s a dick,” Harry said.  “And Louis Walsh – he’s –”

The fish-boy gestured excitedly.  “You like Louis’ Walsh?”

The fish-boy shook his head.  “You don’t like him?”

Again, aggressive head-shaking.  Then the fish-boy swam up to the top of the tank.  He hung on the edge and tapped a small fist to his chest.

“I don’t understand.  What do you want?  Are you hungry?”

A head-shake again.  He pointed at the computer screen and then again, tapped a tiny fist to his chest. 

“Simon?  Do you like that name?”

Frustrated, the fish-boy shook his head again.  He tapped his tiny fist harder against his chest and then, in a high, whispery voice said, “Lew-wee.”

“You can talk!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up and upending his laptop onto the floor.  The fish-boy touched his chest again and repeated, “Louis,” taking more care to sound out the word.

Harry grinned.  “Yes!  Yes!  You’re Louis!”

***

Harry and Louis worked out some basic sign language gestures, but Louis quickly picked up new English words and phrases.  They sounded funny in his high timbre.  He savored the words in his mouth, as if delighted by a dessert he was trying for the first time.

It was great fun trying to figure out what kind of food Louis enjoyed as well.  He seemed to be particularly fond of dry cereal, but only the sugary kid kind.  And after making gestures at Harry’s tea, Harry allowed Louis a milky thimble-full of tea in the morning.  One day, when Harry fed Louis a bite of pickle, Louis threw it out of his tank onto the carpet, his face crinkled up like a baby trying a lemon for the first time.

“Sour?” Harry laughed.  Louis’ hands frantically combed his tongue, trying to scrape away the taste.  “Yucky?”

“Yucky,” Louis repeated.

After that “yucky” ranked up with Louis’ favorite words.  Although, Harry wasn’t sure if he actually thought all the food he tossed out of his tank was yucky or if he just found it amusing that Harry had to pick it all up.

Harry ordered a floating rock on Amazon prime – the kind you would buy for a turtle to sunbathe on - and put it in Louis’ tank so he could have somewhere to sit and it was easier for them to talk, without him having to hang off the side of the tank.

Harry tried to teach Louis a word a day and they watched a lot of television and movies as well, which seemed to help.

One Saturday, when they were watching Little Mermaid for the millionth time, Louis gestured between Ariel and Flounder.  “Ariel.  Flounder.  Friends.”

“Yes, that’s right, Louis.  They’re friends.”

“Niall and Harry?”

“Yes, we’re friends too.”

Louis touched his own chest sadly.  “Louis; friends?”

“I’m your friend, Louis,” Harry said, reaching out to give the fish boy’s hair a stroke.  It was fine and soft like a drenched dandelion.

Louis folded his arms over his chest like a petulant child.  “Louis.  Small friends.  Same size friends,” he said crossly.

“Oh.  I’m not sure where to get another of you – you’re very rare,” Harry frowned.  “For all I know, you’re the only Louis in the sea.”

“Louis.  Friends.  Sad,” Louis said, sticking out his bottom lip and staring up at Harry with sad, watery eyes.

“Be right back,” Harry jumped up, angling the computer so Louis could keep watching the Little Mermaid while he was gone.

Harry fetched his phone from the living room and dialed Niall, since Niall was the only one who knew about his strange pet.  “Niall, I think Louis is lonely.”

Niall snorted.  “How can you tell?”

“He said he wants friends.”

“He _said_ ?  He _speaks_ now?”

“Just a little.  English isn’t his first language.”  Harry walked back into his room, still on the phone.  Louis was pretend-combing his hair like Ariel in the Little Mermaid.  It was getting a bit long and Harry reckoned he should cut it.  He had a pair of tiny manicure scissors that would do the trick.  “Or he might be a baby? I don’t know.  He was so small when I got him.”

Louis scowled, overhearing Harry’s conversation.  “Louis.  Not baby,” he hissed, splashing water at Harry.

Harry laughed, ducking away.  “Okay, maybe not a baby.  Anyway, do you think you could pick something up at the pet shop?”

“I don’t think they stock fish-boys.”

“Maybe just a fish?  He seemed to like Ariel and Flounder.”

“Yeah, okay.  I’ll drop by after work.  It’ll be good to see him anyway.”

“Great.  I’ll make dinner if you don’t have plans.”

“Sounds good.”

Harry hung up.  “Niall is gonna get you a friend.”

“Louis friend?” Louis asked brightly.  “Louis _small_ friend?”

“Yep,” Harry grinned.

Niall stopped by later than evening with a goldfish.  Its body had a similar colouring to Louis’ tail and they could have been related if not for the whole human torso thing.

Harry put the plastic bag into the tank to let the new fish adjust to the temperature of the water and went into the kitchen with Niall to eat.  When he left, Louis was curiously swimming around the bag, wagging his tail excitedly.

“Thanks for the fish.”

“No problem.  Have you been getting out any or has Louis been taking up all your time?”

“I walked down to the water the other day to get a clamshell for Louis’ tank,” Harry said proudly. 

“Wow, that’s a big step for you.”

“It was worth it.  He looks so cute curled up in it like a little bed,” Harry grinned, twirling his pasta around his fork. 

Niall shook his head.  “I’ve got to admit, I had my doubts, but it seems like Louis has been really good for you.”

“He has.  It’s like having a little fish flatmate.”

When they were done, Niall offered to wash the dishes.  Harry said he wanted to go check on Louis and let the new fish out of its bag.  But when he got to the tank, the bag was torn open and Louis was crouched on the gravel picking over the fish’s bones.  A torn bit of orange tail was poking from the corner of his mouth.

“Oh no, Louis!  What have you done?!” Harry cried.

Louis did his hand to mouth gesture to signify he’d eaten the fish.  “He was meant to be your friend.  Friends aren’t food!” Harry scolded him.  Louis shrunk back – making himself as small as possible.  His skin and tail flashed blue, so he blended into the rocks.

“What’s happened?” Niall rushed in from the kitchen, having heard Harry’s cry of distress.

Harry turned and buried his face into Niall’s shoulder.  “He’s eaten it alive.  It’s barbaric.  He’s a monster.”

“It’s okay,” Niall rubbed circles on Harry’s back.  “It’s probably how he ate in the ocean or wherever he’s from.  It’s just the food chain.  He wasn’t doing it to be cruel.”

“It’s horrible,” Harry sobbed. “ _He’s_ horrible.”  He couldn’t get the mental image of Louis eating the goldfish out of his mind.  He thought Louis had wanted company, not live bait!

“I’ll clean it up.  Why don’t you go put the kettle on?” Niall said softly.

“O-okay,” Harry sniffled, eager to leave.  Niall came in a while later and they both had a cup of tea.

“I flushed it, er, what was left of it.  I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have brought the fish if I’d known.”

“I know you’re right – he’s half animal, but,” Harry shivered.  “He was smiling.  He seemed to take such delight in showing me what he’d done.”

“You know how cats present dead rodents and birds to their masters?  Maybe Louis was doing that for you.  Showing you what a good boy he is.  That he could provide for you”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugged.

“He likes you.”

“And I like him.  It’s just sad – I have you and Ariel has Flounder – and Louis has no one.  I thought - ” Harry shook his head. “But that was stupid. Maybe you’re right.  Maybe I don’t know anything about him.  I don’t know where’s he’s from or how old he’ll live to be or whether I’m even doing a good job.”

“You’re doing fine,” Niall reassured him.  “But maybe you should apologize.  It seems like you’ve hurt his feelings. He hasn’t left his coconut since you yelled at him.”

“Oh,” Harry said sadly.  He’d been so shocked and disgusted by what Louis had done that he hadn’t stopped to think he’d hurt the fish-boy’s feelings.  “Shall I check on him then?”

“Yeah.  I’m gonna head home.  Sorry about the goldfish.”

“It’s okay.”

Harry walked into his room tentatively.  Louis was still in his coconut and he’d crawled up to turn off his tank light.

Harry walked over and put a hand on the darkened glass.  “I’m sorry I yelled.  You’re not a monster.  I was just – shocked.  I’m not cross with you anymore.”

There was no sign of movement within the coconut shell.  Harry went to the bathroom and changed into his pajamas and sank into bed with an awful feeling in his gut.  How would he ever make it up to Louis?   _He’d called him a monster.  And horrible._  And Louis had been so good for him – since he’d got Louis, he’d made several short trips out of the house to fetch shells or little stones he thought his pet might take an interest in.

Harry was finally drifting off when he felt a splash and something wet thwacked onto his shoulder.  Louis rolled off of Harry’s back and landed beside him on the mattress, breathing hard.

“You jumped out of your tank!” Harry exclaimed.  “You could have been hurt!” he scolded.  But determination was bright in the little fish-boy’s eyes.  He hugged Harry’s hand, rubbing his damp face affectionately against Harry’s fingers.  “Louis is sorry for eating fish friend.  Louis loves Harry friend.  Louis is sorry he was bad.”

Harry cupped the fish boy in his hand.  He hadn’t noticed – but Louis had filled out a lot since he’d gotten him – he nearly filled Harry’s whole palm now.  “You weren’t bad.  I’m sorry for yelling and hurting your feelings.  You’re a good boy.”

Louis big blue eyes widened.  “Louis is a good boy?  Harry loves Louis?  Harry and Louis friends?”

“Yes, I love you.  But I’ve seen what you do to your friends,” Harry laughed.

Louis grinned, showing off his sharp canines.  “Louis won’t eat Harry.  Maybe just bite a little,” he said, nipping Harry’s finger.

Harry ruffled Louis’ hair and Louis nuzzled Harry’s fingers, making a little pleased sound like a purr.  “Can Louis sleep in Harry’s clam tonight?”

“My _clam_?  Oh, you mean my bed?”  Harry blushed.  He’d never a shared a bed with anyone, not counting sleepovers with Niall when they were little boys.  His anxiety was so bad he’d never had a proper relationship.  Louis was his pet so it shouldn’t be weird for him to be in Harry’s bed – people slept with their cats and dogs all the time - so why did Harry’s stomach feel so funny at the prospect?

Louis grinned hopefully.

“I’m afraid your tail will dry out.  Maybe if we got you a little dish of water?” Harry suggested.

Louis nodded again.  Harry filled a Tupperware with Louis’ tank water and put him in it and set Louis beside his pillow.  “Is this okay?” 

“Can Harry friend scratch my back?” Louis asked, rolling over onto his tummy.

“Okay,” Harry scratched his fingernail gently along Louis’ back, the tiny bumps of his spine as small and delicate as seed pearls.  Louis stretched and yawned, murmuring pleasantly.  His skin was so soft and fragile – Harry only applied the lightest pleasure, afraid he would hurt him.  Louis wagged his tail and let out a contented little sigh.

“Mmm…Harry is a good boy too,” he said and then, promptly fell asleep.


End file.
